


Into Focus

by ashisfriendly



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Boys Kissing, Kissing, M/M, Studying, Tutoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 18:17:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5015143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashisfriendly/pseuds/ashisfriendly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Farkle is a great tutor. He also smells good. And enjoys fancy fruits. Also, Lucas is hopelessly in love with him. [[High School AU; about junior or senior year]]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into Focus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [itsemili](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsemili/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY EMILI!!!!!!!!!!!

The first thing Lucas notices about Farkle’s house is how cold it is.

There’s a chill in the air and the walls are white and grey, accents in deep blues and rich blacks. The bookshelf is, surprisingly, skim and the few books are arranged neatly like no one touches them. All the family photos are black and white, but Lucas does find a splash of color on the stitching of the armchair in the corner. It’s red. It must be where all the warmth is kept because Lucas certainly can’t feel it.

Farkle doesn’t yell out that he’s home and no one is there to present him with a snack or ask how his day was. Lucas is sure that no one is even home. 

“Do you want a tour?” Farkle asks. Lucas shakes his head.

“No, that’s okay.”

He does actually want to know about the lack of books. Maybe there’s a basement library where the books that filled Farkle’s brain are kept. He doesn’t ask, he really doesn’t want to see anymore of his house. It’s… well it’s a bummer. A huge bummer. 

They walk up one of those staircases that looks like the steps are floating and through a hall that has rope lights along the edges of the hardwood floor. Farkle’s bedroom door looks like every other door in the house (white, plain) but when he opens the door, Lucas’ blood starts to thaw.

The modern and cold elements are present in the paint and most of the furniture, not to mention the crazy computer set up in the far corner makes the whole thing look like a room from one of those hacker movies from the 90’s. But the hacker movies that are set in the future, but a 90’s future. Anyway, the point is there’s a lot of screens and buttons and lights and it makes Lucas’ head spin.

There’s a bulletin board that must have had a clean, stainless steel border but is now overflowing with pictures, drawings, letters, and other keepsakes like article clippings and concert tickets. There’s a picture of Farkle and Riley from homecoming freshman year and one of Lucas in his basketball jersey and Farkle with his face and bare chest painted red. Lucas’s number is painted on his belly. Lucas smiles. Riley and Maya painted their faces and wore shirts with his name on it while Farkle painted his number on his body. Matt gave Lucas shit about it during half time and Lucas almost punched him. Thank goodness for Zay otherwise Matt would’ve not been able to play that night.

The rest of Farkle’s room is warm. There’s a few overflowing bookshelves, a striped comforter on his bed, art on his walls. There’s a piece by Riley of a finger painted unicorn (done their sophomore year) and one from Maya that’s just a pencil sketch of a hand. There’s a sign from a car wash fundraiser they did in middle school tacked up to the wall. Riley insisted they use glitter, neon puff paint. 

“‘Scuse me,” Farkle says. Lucas blinks and moves out of his way. Farkle brushes past his side and hangs up his bag. “Go ahead, there’s two hooks.”

Lucas shoulders off his bag and places it next to Farkle’s on the back of the door. There’s a short silence and then there’s the familiar sound of a computer booting up. All of Farkle’s computer screens stay dark while the room lights up slowly. 

“Good afternoon, Farkle,” a robotic voice says. Not quite Siri but not quite the Okay, Google lady either.

Farkle raises his chin and addresses the… room?

“Good afternoon, Minnie. Parentals?”

Lucas keeps trying to find the source of the voice. A speaker or anything, maybe even a camera?

“Conference and delayed flight. Would you like to contact them?”

“No thank you. Just refreshments, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

Another long pause.

“Your room talks,” Lucas says.

“Should we start with calculus or chemistry?” Farkle asks.

Lucas wants to press the talking room issue but Farkle doesn’t look interested. Farkle didn’t want to come here in the first place. Since they started this tutoring thing a few years ago because Lucas’ dad wanted him to bring up his grades, they’d study at school or they’d go to Riley’s, once they went to Lucas’ house. All options were out today and when Lucas suggested going to Farkle’s house, Farkle took awhile to answer.

“Or not, it’s okay,” Lucas said. 

“No, it’s fine.” It didn’t sound fine, but they started the journey here anyway.

Since the subway, Farkle has been quiet. He didn’t want to come here, he doesn’t want to be here, and Lucas is starting to feel bad for even suggesting it.

“Calculus, I guess,” Lucas says.

They get out their books and Farkle is quick to start his tutoring session, which really is more like taking another class at school. He has a lecture portion and then Farkle even makes up equations in Lucas’ notebook and waits patiently for Lucas to do them on his own, answer any questions he has, and distribute praise appropriately. Farkle, actually, is very good at encouragement. Even when Lucas absolutely bombs something, even when he takes days to understand a theory, Farkle always says, “Outstanding, Lucas.” Sometimes he follows it up with, “but we have to fix this,” or “but not quite yet,” or the rare, “now we can move on!”

It always makes Lucas’ chest light up and stomach flip. Just like when Farkle leans in too close while he’s writing down a practice problem or erasing one of Lucas’ mistakes. Farkle started using this new shampoo a year ago that smells kind of like campfire.

He can smell it now, even when Farkle is farther away and explaining today’s lesson, which is just a much better version of Ms. Linthrup’s lecture this morning. It’s how their science sessions go as well, and sometimes when Farkle reads over Lucas’ papers. Lucas likes the world he lives in, enjoys his small, happy, big city life, but whenever there’s something he just doesn’t quite understand, Farkle is there to help. Farkle acts like a lens, turning the focus so that Lucas can see things better, can see the richer colors and take in the details from behind the viewfinder. Lucas is, honestly, a simple guy but Farkle makes things much more complicated.

In good ways and bad. Lately, it’s felt like the good and the bad are churning into a tornado and Lucas is afraid he’s going to lift off from the ground and spin out of this world.

Lucas takes a breath and tries to keep up with Farkle, who’s so engrossed in his lesson that he doesn’t notice the plate of chicken nuggets that appears through a sliding door that was, apparently, hiding in his wall. It sits on the desk, the door closing behind it. There’s a soft, polite ding.

Farkle stops mid sentence. “You hungry?”

As always, Lucas is starving. “Yeah.”

Farkle puts the book aside and takes the notebook from Lucas’ lap. His fingers brush Lucas’ jeans and Lucas springs up to grab the plate of chicken nuggets. The plate is pleasantly warm and the chicken nuggets smell deliciously processed.

Lucas plucks a nugget from the plate and throws the whole thing in his mouth, holding the plate out for Farkle.

“Oh, no thank you. MIne is coming.”

Lucas furrows his brow just as another ding sounds in the room. On the desk is a bowl of the fanciest looking fruit Lucas has ever seen. He’s not sure what’s even in there and there’s a sprinkling of green herbs on top? Farkle grabs the bowl and sits back in his spot, plucking fruit between two fingers before plopping it in his mouth.

“You made chicken nuggets for me?”

“Actually, Minnie did,” Farkle says. 

“Oh, right,” Lucas says. He looks around the room before talking to it. “Thank you, Minnie.”

“My pleasure, Lucas.”

Lucas sits up, turning to Farkle. “Minnie knows me?”

“She knows everyone I care about,” Farkle says, shrugging. He has juice from some weird fruit on his lips, sending the tornado spinning in Lucas’ gut. “I have it all set up, just in case.”

“Yeah, why don’t we ever come over?”

Lucas really didn’t mean to ask but after being around Maya for years, his filter and ability to think before he speaks has gotten a bit weaker. 

Farkle sucks the pad of his thumb and Lucas looks down at the plate of chicken nuggets.

“I don’t know,” Farkle says, “I don’t really like it here first of all, and second of all, there’s not much to show.”

“Your room’s nice.”

Farkle smiles at Lucas in soft gratitude. Lucas has never really thought about blushing before, but he wonders if he’s blushing now. His face feels hot. He picks up a chicken nugget and holds it in his hand.

“Thanks,” Farkle says before putting the bowl down on his desk. He puts his hands in his pocket. “Perhaps I just don’t like it here so why make anyone else suffer?” Farkle takes a hand out of one of his pockets and gestures to Lucas. “I’m sorry about that, by the way.”

Lucas lets out a breath, a quick snort of laughter. “It’s okay, Farkle, I’d like to come over more.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Farkle says, smiling. “You looked like you stepped onto the set of Star Trek or something when you came in here.”

“Your house is just a little…”

“Sterile?”

“Yeah,” Lucas says, stretching the word out as if his insult wouldn’t hit so hard if the word was longer. His mother would kill him for forgetting his manners.

“Lucas, always compliment a host on their home, even if it is as messy as a pig pen in the dead of summer.”

She’d be so mad to find out that the first words out of Lucas’ mouth weren’t, “What a lovely home, Farkle!” when he stepped across the threshold. Oops.

“But I really do like your room,” Lucas says quickly, “and the chicken nuggets.”

“I calculated that nearly 68.4% of the time, when we go out, you order chicken nuggets. There’s also a high percentage of pepperoni and jalapeno pizza or variations of meat loaf sandwiches. Oh and if breakfast is served all day, always breakfast. Unfortunately, Minnie doesn’t like to make breakfast past noon.”

Lucas wants to consider how an operating system can decide what it likes and does not like to do but right now he can’t get over the fact that Farkle has memorized his food ordering habits. Even Lucas isn’t aware he usually goes for chicken nuggets. It makes Lucas feel like an idiot for not knowing Farkle’s eating habits, or even that he eats weird fruit. All he knows is he always sucks on natural, honey flavored cough drops. His throat must hurt after a full day of speaking up in class, making the world clear to Lucas Friar, and talking to his bedroom, apparently.

“I didn’t know I was so predictable,” Lucas says. 

“No, not predictable. That took a lot of observational skill and time to figure out. You see, even your most ordered item has a rather low percentage.”

“Why would you keep track of what I eat?”

Farkle stiffens, which says a lot. He’s already a rather stiff guy. But Lucas can see the soft clutch of his fingers and how his jaw is set. His eyes go a little wide, just enough for Lucas to notice. Farkle’s eyes can get really big when he’s surprised or upset but right now they are only a little bit bigger than usual. 

Maybe they both have really good observational skills.

“Like I said,” Farkle says carefully, “just in case.”

Lucas lets Farkle’s gaze sizzle against his skin before clearing his throat. “I still don’t get antidifferentiation.” 

That’s enough to soften Farkle and get him going in his usual teacher talk. The teacher talk is a whole other thing that stirs inside Lucas and he’s never thought about before bed or sometimes in the shower. No, not at all.

The truth is, the very obvious truth, is that Lucas is so over the top in love with Farkle that it is almost laughable. Maybe Lucas would laugh about it if it was at all easy, but since it tugs at his chest and his stomach and clouds his mind and makes him punch his bedroom wall sometimes, he decides it’s not quite laughable. Maybe one day when Farkle is married and has super genius babies it’ll be easier.

Even if it physically hurts to think about that right now.

They study chemistry next. At some point, his computer turns on and Minnie’s voice tells Farkle he has an email.

“Sorry, hold on one moment,” Farkle says, getting up.

He leans onto the desk, clicking on an isolated trackpad. Lucas tries to look away from the screen and then away from Farkle’s ass and then just ends up staring at his notes. The computer screen goes black again and Farkle slumps back onto the bed, pulling the beanie off his head.

His hair is an absolute mess. It’s an admirable contrast to his clean room and his usual, orderly… Farkle-ness.

Then Lucas notices the sag in Farkle’s shoulders and the droop to his jaw. 

“Everything okay?” Lucas asks. Farkle almost looks tired, which is insane because, even though Lucas is in love with him, he has suspicions that Farkle is actually part robot. Or clone. Something incapable of breaking down.

“My dad is staying in Columbus for a while longer. He’s probably” -- Farkle stops and clears his throat -- “well, anyway, so no one will be home until Wednesday.”

“Oh,” Lucas says, “sorry.” 

Farkle shrugs. “So where were we?”

“We don’t have to keep studying.”

Farkle blinks. “Yeah we do, you’ll fail otherwise.”

“We could use a break.”

Farkle gives Lucas one of those, “does not compute” looks he sometimes gives and Lucas gets up to speak to the room. Or Minnie.

“Minnie, we’d like to play a game.”

“Woah, woah!” Farkle gets up and grabs Lucas’ arm with one hand and places his other over Lucas’ mouth. Lucas’ heart is on fire. “Never,” Farkle whispers, “ever tell a computer you want to play a game.”

Lucas tries to stay as still as possible but it’s almost as if the electricity that’s coursing through him is impossible to control. Is he trembling? It feels like it. It feels like every muscle and bone is vibrating inside him. Like his skin has turned to water and the current his body has created is too fucking strong. He swallows and his mouth moves against Farkle’s palm.

Farkle swallows now. “We would play Battleship or Guess Who? or anything before telling a computer to play a game, have you learned nothing from popular media?” Farkle is speaking slow and low. It turns Lucas’ blood to lava.

Lucas shakes his head carefully and it causes Farkle to slip his hand down, but it stays connected to Lucas. His jaw, his neck, stopping on his chest. 

“I have to tell you something,” Lucas blurts out. He immediately regrets it.

“What?” Farkle asks.

“I like Scrabble best but I think you’ll beat me.” Lucas can’t be sure but he’s almost positive Farkle’s fingers have tightened on his shirt now.

“I would,” Farkle says.

Lucas smiles and the lava is cooling, only a little. It’s a manageable heat. 

“Clue is fun, too.”

“What about Risk?” Farkle asks. Lucas’ head is dipping and Farkle’s eyes are drooping closed. 

“Risk takes too long and ruins friendships,” Lucas mumbles. 

That’s Farkle’s nose. Against the tip of Lucas’ nose.

“It certainly can.”

Farkle is the one to push and that alone makes Lucas’ whole world turn upside down. 

The kiss keeps the world spinning. It’s very slow and soft at first, just enough to topple everything Lucas has ever known. He’s kissed girls before and they were nice, they made his brain feel fuzzy and his skin buzz but kissing Farkle is different. It’s magnificent. It’s the gravitational pull giving out while an earthquake split’s the earth’s surface and he keeps falling down the crack. So he holds onto Farkle and Farkle, again, focuses the world and helps Lucas understand.

He helps him understand that Farkle’s hands in his hair feels so fucking perfect, that Farkle’s lips are soft and not at all needy or aggressive, but pleasantly patient and a little shy. That Lucas’ heart apparently can beat this hard and not quit or burst out of his chest. That when he puts his hands on Farkle’s waist, Lucas feels like they’ve finally found a place to rest that is more perfect than anywhere else in the world.

They kiss for a long time, and it’s just kissing, only kissing. They kiss until Lucas’ lips are sore and then numb, and he just keeps going. They kiss until their legs get sore and Farkle helps them settle on the bed. It’s still only kissing, but now they are sitting, which means they can do it for longer. Lucas is sure nothing has ever felt this good, not ever, and he doesn’t want to stop.

The only reason they stop is because Minnie has something to say.

“What was that?” Farkle asks, completely out of breath, voice hoarse.

“Text message from Maya, it says, ‘Movie night at the Matthews, they are unaware that we are coming and it’s going to be fun.’ Would you like to reply, Farkle?”

“Yes,” Farkle says, then kisses Lucas again until Minnie is done asking what he’d like it to say. “No thanks.” Then his lips are back on Lucas’ and Lucas is smiling into the kiss.

“I probably have a matching text.” Lucas says against Farkle’s lips. 

“So go check.”

Lucas outright laughs. “No thanks.”

Farkle grabs the sides of Lucas face and Lucas is sure the whole world has disappeared and left only them to live.

“Outstanding Lucas,” Farkle whispers.

Lucas smiles and when Farkle pulls him in for yet another kiss, he doesn’t mind that it’s mostly teeth that touch Farkle’s lips.


End file.
